Royal
by KinnleyBrynn
Summary: Lucy Halton's only wish is to be a plain, ordinary, exceptionally un-royal teenage girl. Unfortunately for, she is the Princess of Leda, and is in fact being pressured to find a husband quickly. Please comment what you think/any suggestions. thanks and enjoy :)
1. Chapter 1

A lot of things annoy me. My family, my strict schedule, my life in general. Most of all, though, what annoys me is_ idiots._ Idiots who don't understand the word _no_. I mean, you'd think it's one of those things you learn after a while. It doesn't mean "why don't you stand here so I can think about it some more?" It means leave and don't ask that question again. In this instance, unfortunately, my parents were the idiots.

"No, no, no no no no," I sing. "Look, I have a lot of homework to do before class today, and I don't have time for this. My answer is no, and that's final." Laying down the law. Just like I was raised.

My parents glance at each other, as if to say _you want to take this one? _Mother, as usual, takes the reigns. She is the only one who has any actual willpower and is just as stubborn as me. In other words, Dad is a pushover.

"We're not asking much, dear. Just that you meet with a few of your suitors and maybe go on a date or two," Mother pleads.

"A _few_ of my suitors, you say? Now wouldn't that be the whole freakin' male population of Leda? Yeah, let me just clear my schedules for a few _hundred thousand_ dates," I snap back.

Oh, did I not mention? I have suitors.

"You know what I meant! _Royal_ suitors. _Distinguished_ families. I'll give you the rest of the week to think this over and come back to me with what's hopefully a better answer. I know you're still a teenager, but you're also a royal. Your father and I expect you to act like one."

Oh, did I not mention that, too? I'm a royal.

"Yes. Thank you, mother," I say. My answer is not going to change, but I would give her the satisfaction of thinking it might to spare myself any more argument today. Mother and father walk hand-in-hand out the door, leaving me to my studies. I sigh and spin around in my chair, staring at the ceiling. Thinking I was alone, I was startled by the servant who spoke up.

"Sorry, Princess. You have not yet dismissed me. Would you like me to stay?"

"No, Sebastian. I'm good. Thanks."

Ohhhhh, I'm really slacking off on mentioning things. Important part of the story, though: I'm a princess, too. Yay.

Don't go thinking it's all perfect and grand, now. I mean, yes, I live in a palace. Yes, I have maids and servants and never have to lift a finger. But let's get one thing clear. I never asked for any of this. If I had had my way, I would've grown up rolling down grassy hillsides and making PB&Js for every meal, not waltzing in ballrooms and eating from silver platters. It would've been: Lucy Halton, the plain, ordinary, exceptionally un-royal teenage girl. That, however, was not me.

Obviously, I'm not stupid. I'm lucky to be where I am. I'm thankful for where I live and what I eat and so on. I'm just saying I look better wearing a baseball cap than a crown.

I open my history textbook, read a couple of lines, and then slam it shut. I already know literally everything about Leda's history, and I certainly have had enough of lecturing today. Instead, I grab my favorite _normal_ book and head down to the gardens. I'm wearing jeans and a t-shirt, along with my very dirty sneakers and worn-down baseball cap. Perfect princess attire, if you ask me. I am "highly encouraged", by the parentals (or to address them properly, the King and Queen) to uphold a royal dress code of fancy-schmancy gowns and unbearably tall heels, and normally I do, but I've had enough royal crap for today.

I find a nice tree, climb up onto sturdy branch, and settle in. Usually, if I'm in a tree, guards won't find me when they do sweeps of the grounds, which is happening, like, all the time. Of course, my presence in the garden is completely authorized (as if that would stop me), but I like to avoid the bowing and how-do-you-do spiel.

I try to focus on my book, but my mind keeps wandering back to the suitor thing. I will have to get married. Eventually. I'm only seventeen now, so it will happen within the next few years. The thing is that I've met most all the _royal_ suitors and _distinguished_ families. Royal suitors are the princes from other kingdoms. Marrying one would be, as Father puts it, a "politically-beneficial union." As I put it, it'd be an alliance. It would also mean marrying a royal snob, probably ten years older than me and speaking in an indecipherable accent. As far as distinguished families go, many live in the palace itself. The sons are polite enough. I've danced with most all of them at dinner parties and social events, fawning over me and what an honor it would be to court me, the princess. Well, let me be the first to tell you. Marrying a princess and marrying _me_ are two different things. Two very, very different things. The quicker a suitor learns that, the better off he is.

I look down from my tree to see a boy, probably about my age, walking into the palace with all of his belongings. People from the outside villages are hired all the time, so the palace is practically overflowing with staff. I like it, though. More normal people to talk to. I see him fumble with all the baggage in his hands, trip up the stairs, and stumble into the Center Hall.

Just as the gates to the grounds close, the Clock Tower strikes two, meaning that I am, once again, late to my afternoon classes. I hastily jump down from my branch and take off running. Skipping the stairs three at a time, I burst into the Center Hall like a bull in a china shop, garnering many wild stares. Those stares, however, recognizing that I am the cause of the disturbance, slowly melt into amused, though not at all surprised, demeanors. I am very often late, and I am very often sprinting through the palace halls for any number of reasons. I bound up the stairs at take the corner at top speed. Before I can register there is a new obstacle in my path, I slam right into it. I trip over my own feet as I stumble backwards, but quickly feel strong hands grip my elbows. The obstacle, which I now see is a boy, has dropped all of his bags to keep me from tumbling back over the railing. I rock back again, but then come to a halt, meeting his eyes for the first time.

"Wow. I'm so sorry. I totally just ran into you, and you totally just kept me from dying," I say.

"I'm fine," he laughs. "Are- are you okay? You were kind of going full speed there."

"Late for class. Again. Here let me help you, considering you dropped all your bags for me," I say as I begin to gather his things in my arms. "I can help you take these to your room if you want. Which way?"

"No— you don't— have to do that. Really." He blushes, then continues, "I actually don't know where my room is. I just got here."

As he reaches to take his bags from me, I pull them away out of his reach. "Well, perfect. I can show you the way."

I begin walking us down the hall towards the servants corridors. He was, by the way, going in the completely opposite direction. I'm such a hero. Arriving at his door, he sets down his luggage and pulls his key out of his back pocket. The door swings open, revealing the standard servant's room. I set down the bags next to a twin sized bed and a work desk, along with a dresser and a personal bathroom. And also. . .

"A window!" I shriek, running to his cleanly cut hole in the wall.

He looks at me like I'm the weirdest person he has ever met, which might not be too far off. "Yeah. I guess that is cool. You. . . really like windows or something?"

Do I like windows? Are you kidding me?! How many of my foiled escape plans and succeeding punishments could have been avoided if I could have just Rapunzeled myself out of my room after hours? All of them. My room, though granted much nicer than this one, has no windows, no daylight, and no escape route. Theres a better reason for why I like to see the sky at night, though. Oddly enough, I even think about telling him, but then I laugh at myself.

"My room doesn't have any. Plain, solid walls all around. I guess I'd just like to see the stars." I stare out the window for a few more seconds before snapping back into myself. He's still staring at me, but this time it's like he's looking for something. I wonder if he'll find it.

"Er— I think I have to go. My lessons are probably over by now."

His eyes widen as he comes back to reality, "Oh, yeah. Sorry for keeping you."

"No, no. _Thank_ you. This is a better excuse than my last," I add. He smiles. I like that.

"I'll see you around, right?" he asks, all seriousness returning. And then it hits me. I realize why he's been so nice. So _normal. _No one is ever normal around me.

"I would imagine so," I answer, with a sad smile. I turn and walk out. For once in my life, I was Lucy Halton— the plain, ordinary, exceptionally un-royal teenage girl. To him, at least. And for some reason, even though it didn't last, that felt good.


	2. Chapter 2

"Lucy, that was the last time. You cannot skip any more lessons or just wander about with no duties." If you can imagine, this is pushover dad speaking.

"So what— you want me to fill my time with busy work just so it looks like I am fulfilling my royal obligations or something? Oh, I see, you want me to be like you."

"Lucy, enough," he starts. "This is not up for negotiation. You can start tomorrow night, by accompanying your mother and I to dinner with King Rufus."

Ew. "Rufus of Wettlesworth or whatever? He's disgusting," I complain.

"It's 'Wittlewarts', dear."

"Even worse."

"Tomorrow at 6. Be there or I will start adding more courses to your schedule," father threatens. Good idea, dad. Give me more classes to skip.

"Okay, okay," I concede, throwing my hands in the air as I stomp out the room.

Suddenly struck hungry by the exertion put forth in arguing with my parents, I continue my stomping all the way down to the kitchens. While most royals prefer to ring a bell or send some poor servant to do their bidding, I prefer to be as self-sufficient as possible. I mean, I'm still required to have servants, which I think is utterly ridiculous and is actually preparing me for a life of helplessness, but I usually only call them when I'm bored and want to play cards with somebody.

I forgot it's almost dinner hour, so the chefs are bustling about the kitchen. Carefully guiding my way through the tables and shelves, I snatch an apple and head back out. Some cooks see me and dutifully bow, and some others, luckily, are too busy to notice. Right as I reach the doorway, I hear a clatter behind me. I turn to see the new boy— the one with which I collided in the hallway earlier— stooping to the ground, having lost balance with a tray of appetizers.

"Looks like we're both pretty clumsy, huh?" I say, bending down to help. Upon recognizing me, his face brightened and he slowed down his process of restocking the plates.

"Oh! Hey. I guess so. I'm not much of a cook or waiter, but. . . what are you doing here? You work down here, too?" he asks hopefully.

"Um. . . No. Just stopping by. You didn't sign up to work in Kitchens?" I ask.

"Actually, I was hoping to be stationed as guard or something. I really want to be on the Strategic Council, but I've heard that takes years of working in the castle." We place the last plates back on the tray, and together we carefully lift the tray back onto the table.

"Eh, I bet you'll get there soon enough. Well, I better head back, but—" I started moving towards the door when he gently grabbed my arm to pull me back.

"Wait — I was going to ask you— maybe you would want to have dinner sometime? I know I'm new to the castle and all, so maybe you could show me around. . . If not, that is totally fine, too. I don't really know much about how it works and—"

"That would be great," I interrupted. And despite myself, a small smile spread across my face. I was glad to see it mirrored on his.

His eyes widened suddenly, and he gasped, "Oh! I didn't even get your name earlier today. I'm Griffin. From Farris Village." My name? Well. That sends me into panic mode real quick.

"Oh. . . Um. . . I actually totally definitely forgot I am supposed to be somewhere right now! I'm so sorry! I will see you for dinner sometime soon, okay? Bye, Griffin!" And with that, I scooped up my apple and ran as fast as I could up the stairs to my bedroom, plopping myself on my mattress with a sigh.

Griffin. He doesn't know my name, which is unfortunate, but I think he would be a little freaked out if I told him. While obviously, given my current plight, not everyone knows my face, they know the name Lucy Halton. But Lucy Halton is starting to see a little hope on her horizon.

I know I've literally met him twice, so maybe I'm being dramatic, but when I'm around him I feel so. . . _normal._ He doesn't treat me like a helpless royal, or a snobby aristocrat, but like a human being. It's refreshing.

I decide that my apple is enough dinner for me, and I tuck myself in for the night. As I fall asleep, I mentally quiz myself on the names and interests of the guests arriving tomorrow. Father would be so proud.

King Rufus: _likes to talk about golf and the mosquito epidemic._

Queen Dreeka (yeah I don't know who came up with that one, but she must have been a disturbed mother): _thick foreign accent. Best course of action is to smile and nod._

Lady Ralley: _my age, no nonsense type of girl. super boring. Avoid contact, if at all possible._

Jack: _a few years younger than me. Personal choice: Royal title temporarily revoked until he quits calling me Lucie-Tootsie. Also, avoid contact._

In general, if possible, avoid contact with the royals of Wettlesworth.

Ah.

Wittlewarts.


End file.
